For fourteen days this June, creation has filled my senses,
Ideas gathering like storm clouds upon the horizon,
Each thought colliding with the next,
Sparking brightly against the architecture of my mind.
For fourteen days I have walked among possibilities,
Turning fragments into stories,
Dreams into landscapes,
And whispers into worlds.
The tide of stress has temporarily withdrawn,
Leaving the fertile sands of creativity exposed,
And for a fleeting moment,
The mind can breathe.
The great serpent Grimvael has retreated,
Coiling himself within his lightless pit,
His black scales hidden from thought and memory.
For now, his icy tendrils do not reach,
His suckered grasp does not cling
To old wounds and forgotten sorrows.
And in his absence,
The mind dares once more
To dream,
To imagine,
To create.
Dan Verkys 